


the sacred and profane

by rime



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: "let's go on a date bc Reasons" the novel the feature film the autobiography, F/M, Gen, I WILL WRITE MORE FOR THEM SOON OKAY, M/M, Self-Hatred, casual misandry from sylvain, fake date, self-loathing sylvain, very light sylvix mostly just pining, yo i like... love mercedes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 02:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rime/pseuds/rime
Summary: “Hello, Sylvain,” said Mercedes brightly. “I’m surprised to see you here. Isn’t it early?”“Yeah, uh, I’m here for choir practice,” he said.Mercedes looked thoughtful, as if trying to riddle out a puzzle he’d thrown her way. “I think I figured it out,” she said at last, eyes sparkling. “So that you can sing my praises. Is that it?”“What?” he said. “I -- no, I’m literally just here for choir practice."Mercedes’ father wants her to at leastmeether latest suitor. Mercedes agrees, but is unsure how to conduct herself around him -- and who better to ask than Sylvain?[mercedes/sylvain gen hangin out with a fair bit of “haha just kidding… unless….? ;)” think of it as an s support i guess! also sylvix pining!! huzzaH]





	the sacred and profane

It was morning, or coming upon it; at this still hour the cathedral of Garreg Mach brimmed with a pale but gentle light, one that suffused its remaining windows with jewelled tones and cast their colors across rubble and floor. 

Sylvain wasn’t much of a believer in the goddess, but her cathedral certainly had its merits. It was a lovely place to stroll and relax, to sing... or to run into a friend by chance, perhaps, like the certain someone whose outline he could make out even now as he raced up the cathedral steps, dust drifting in the morning air.

It was early, far too early for him to be awake, but awake he was, and she was, too.

“Mercedes!” 

In all honesty, he was having trouble following up her name with anything good. It wasn’t that he was slow to think of pickup lines; on the contrary, he had _ quite _ the repertoire… but he saw Mercedes so often that he was really running out of good ones, y’know, ones that capitalized on the whole church thing.

_ The whole cathedral shines with heavenly light when you’re around_? Not his best work, plus he was pretty sure he’d said that verbatim before. _ You’re looking divine as always? _ He’d used that at breakfast _ yesterday. I love that angelic smile of yours? _Trite. Cliche. 

“Hello, Sylvain,” said Mercedes brightly. “I’m surprised to see you here. Isn’t it early?”

“Yeah, uh, I’m here for choir practice,” he said. 

Mercedes looked thoughtful, as if trying to riddle out a puzzle he’d thrown her way. “I think I figured it out,” she said at last, eyes sparkling. “So that you can sing my praises. Is that it?”

“What?” he said. “I -- no, I’m literally just here for choir practice.

“Though I have to admit -- that was _ smooth_,” he said, astonished. “I’ll be sure to use it some other time. You sure you wanna do the whole bishop thing? I feel like it might be wasted on you.”

“I don’t believe serving the church is a waste,” said Mercedes cheerfully. 

“That is… not what I meant,” he said. “Uh -- sorry. Just forget it. Why are you here, anyway?” 

“Well… I’m praying to the goddess,” Mercedes said, the slightest of shadows passing over her face. That shadow would have escaped the notice of most men -- definitely a moron like Lorenz -- but not Sylvain Gautier, world expert at upsetting women.

“Aw, I can’t let someone as beautiful as you make an expression like that, Mercedes. What’s wrong?” he asked, moving to put a hand on her shoulder and then… awkwardly dropping it at the last moment, because as much as he loved to flirt with anything that moved, Sylvain did, at times, have a _ modicum _ of tact. And Mercedes looked genuinely upset. 

“Oh no, I’m alright,” said Mercedes. 

Sylvain rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, yeah, I’m convinced now. You’re fine, and that’s why you’re here, praying to the goddess at ass o’clock,” he said, with a bluntness that he wasn’t sure would go over well. But it did; that was Mercedes for you. Her eyes twinkled with silent laughter as she cupped a hand over her veil. “Come on, what’s the matter?” 

“I suppose you _ would _ be a good person to ask about this,” she said finally, and Sylvain grinned even as he wondered what on earth _ that _ could mean. Nothing good, surely. “I’ve just received another letter from my father...” 

_ “ _Oh boy. The marriage proposals, huh? Still?”

“This one isn’t as bad as the others,” Mercedes said, without conviction. “He’s a wealthy merchant based in Fhirdiad. I would be close to His Highness… and to you.” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow _down,_” he said, throwing his arms up. “You’re actually considering this one? Mercedes, I thought we _ agreed!_” 

“My father pleaded with me to at least meet the man,” Mercedes said, idly twisting the satin of her veil in her fingers. “Finally, I agreed to. But…” 

“But you’re worried about it,” said Sylvain.

Mercedes nodded. “I don’t know how to act around him. I’d like to make a good impression, if only for my father…”

“Let me get this straight,” said Sylvain, suddenly understanding _ exactly _ what she had meant earlier. “You want to impress some dude, but you don’t know how. And you just so _ happen _ to know a guy who is the world expert in all things romantic. Skirt-chasing, date-owning, and whatnot.” 

“That isn’t quite how I’d phrase it, but you have the general idea,” she said brightly.

Sylvain grinned with all his teeth. 

“Would you like to go on a date with me, m’lady? I’ll show you exactly how it’s done.”

* * *

“Alright, rule number one: stop being so _ nice.” _

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Whatever do I _ mean?”_ Sylvain exhaled. “We started walking into town over an hour ago! Since then you’ve helped a grandma carry her bags, weeded someone’s garden, made friends with a bunch of street urchins who were _ definitely _ about to pickpocket us, and we _ still _ haven’t made it to dinner! I mean, _ I _ don’t mind. Hell, I don’t even eat dinner most days. I’m just saying. Your merchant? Probably gonna mind.” 

“I don’t understand the problem,” Mercedes said, frowning slightly.

“Just… you want to be enticing. Spicy. Alluring. Not a _ saint. _ Guys like me love a challenge, okay? A little bit of mystery. You can’t always be helping us out. Frankly, we don’t _ deserve _ your help,” Sylvain said, scratching his head while wondering how on earth Mercedes was real. She was like… well, pretty much exactly like you’d expect someone who grew up in a church to be, he supposed. A saint among women. 

“And... you know what? I take it all back,” he said, after seeing the crestfallen look on Mercedes’ face. “That was totally wrong and dumb, and I’m sorry. Keep doing you, Mercedes, and being as nice as you want. Yeah.” 

“I’m learning so much from you, Sylvain,” Mercedes said brightly. 

“Yeah, like that guys are total morons,” he said, without thinking. 

“And that you’re more careful with your words when I look sad,” Mercedes said. “Aren’t you?” 

He whistled. “You’re a quick study, Mercedes. You know that?”

* * *

Night had fallen by the time they reached Garreg Mach’s only tavern. Quite an accomplishment for a hundred-yard walk, if you asked Sylvain. And what was the total damage? A grandma and a garden, three urchins assisted, one thief apprehended, and dozens of birds fed by hand, of course. So _ many _ birds. He hadn’t known Mercedes kept breadcrumbs in her pockets for this express purpose, but seeing her surrounded by cooing, clucking doves seemed so much like her natural state he hadn’t even bothered bringing it up. By the time they reached the tavern they had amassed a small following of pigeons that Sylvain had to shoo them away, kicking vigorously at their stupid heads as Mercedes giggled and weaved through the flock. 

Pigeons were pretty dumb, if you asked him. Felix had the right idea using them for sword practice. 

He wondered how this merchant guy had made his money. Probably killing people. That was how everyone made money these days. Sylvain sighed. Wartime.

“Table for two, please,” he said, winking at the proprietor, who scowled and ushered them into a cramped booth. Sylvain knew exactly why: it was that he’d been here every night this week with a different woman. Couldn’t blame the guy for scowling, but hey, business was business. 

What kind of pickup line could you use on a merchant, anyway? _ I’d like to see your wares? _ Yeah, the guy probably wouldn’t be into that. And even if he was, he couldn’t see Mercedes pulling it off. _ Some things money can’t buy? _ Vaguely insulting. _ Put me on a shelf? _ What would that even mean -- 

“What are you thinking about, Sylvain?” Mercedes said. 

“_Extremely _ boring things,” Sylvain said immediately. “Nothing worth mentioning. By the way, Mercedes. I know the point of this dinner was to work on your game, but… to be honest, I don’t feel like I have much to teach you. You’re… I dunno, natural.” 

“A natural, am I?” said Mercedes. “I wonder what you mean by that…”

“Uh, not _ a _ natural, exactly,” he said, casting about for the right words. “You’re kinda just… yourself. You know?” She wasn’t a natural like Hilda or Dorothea, that was for sure; she could not effortlessly seduce, not like, well, _ Sylvain. _ But she tolerated him effortlessly, and not minding him was charming in and of itself. Hell, she didn’t even mind this grimy, grubby tavern.

It was a line he used a lot, but honestly, Mercedes _ wasn’t _ like other girls. There was nothing he could say that would be useful for her meetup with merchant guy. Annette or Leonie he could have helped, sure, but Mercedes was different. He didn’t _ want _ to help her. Anyone who didn’t like her as she was, unadorned and lovely, definitely did _ not _ deserve her hand. 

How did someone grow up like that, anyway? He wondered what her kid brother was like. Probably nice, if Mercedes were any indication. Though brothers could be pretty different too, heh. 

“I just don’t think you need my advice, that’s all,” he said. 

“That’s quite all right,” said Mercedes cheerfully. “We’ll just talk. I always learn something from you.”

“Then talk we shall, my lady,” he said, as gallantly as he could muster with a forkful of Gautier gratin in his mouth. “What ill-fated conquest would you like to discuss today?”

“I liked your story about the alewife,” Mercedes said, laughter in her eyes. “I would love to hear it again.” 

“As you wish,” he said, swigging his Dagdan ale with a grimace. Felix thought he’d like this stuff? “Where to begin? On that stormy night in Fhirdiad, our hero walked into the Lion’s Mane…” 

* * *

“No, no, go on,” Mercedes said. “What could you have said to upset her like that?”

“I’m serious, Merce! I don’t remember!” 

“You were really thrown out of the bar?” 

“That kind of thing happens to me all the _ time _ \-- I mean, having a vat of ale poured over my head isn’t even in the top five... listen, did I ever tell you about the girl with the knife? The tall one, I mean? Girl. Not the knife.”

“I don’t believe you did,” said Mercedes, eyes sparkling. 

Sylvain heaved a sigh. He’d had too much to drink; Mercedes put him at ease entirely too well. 

“It’ll have to wait for another time. The tall girl, I mean. It’s a long story, and I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m pretty fucking out of it right now,” he said, closing his eyes briefly as their cramped booth swam around him. This was _ not _ how his dates usually went. 

“You’ve lived such an exciting life, Sylvain,” Mercedes said, with a wistful smile. “I’m a little envious.” 

Sylvain snorted.

“And here you are, taking romantic advice from someone who has had women try to _kill _him over botched dates,” he said, taking another sweet bun from the frankly ridiculous sweets platter they’d ordered. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Mercedes eat a meal besides dessert. Did she eat? What did nuns eat, anyway?

“I’ve learned a lot from this,” said Mercedes. 

He scoffed. “I can’t imagine what. Don’t pour ale over your date’s head, maybe?“

“To be myself, Sylvain, just as you are yourself,” Mercedes said, looking at him with understanding eyes. “To be sincere. I hope that will please this merchant… and my father.”

“To be… yourself?_” _ Sylvain repeated, uncomprehending. “Are you kidding?”

Mercedes smiled.

Sylvain snorted. Then he snorted again. Then he laughed despite himself, mirthless and disbelieving. It was high and wild even to his own ears; thankfully the tavern was bustling and he doubted anyone heard or cared. Finally he took a giant swig of ale to comport himself. Throughout it all Mercedes watched him mildly.

“You’re endearing, Mercedes,” he said, reaching across the table to brush her hair with an audacity that would absolutely never have happened if he were sober. “I mean it. You really are an angel. Saying I’m myself and calling me _ sincere? _ When you, of all people, _ know _ how I feel about these women?”

“You are kind to them, aren’t you?” Mercedes said.

“Hardly,” he breathed. His mask was slipping. He didn’t care. Mercedes knew him, anyway -- the _ real _ him. The jackass. “And tell me: why should I be? They don’t like _ me. _ They don’t give a shit about me. Sure, they like the _ idea_: the good looks, the nobility, and don’t get me started on the fucking Crest --”

“No, Sylvain,” she said, kindly but firmly, placing her hand over his. “I believe most of these women see you as you are… a gentle soul.”

“Don’t touch me,” he spat. “Don’t look at me like that. You know what they call me, right? Total trash? That’s what Dedue said. Ha! Isn’t it great? Isn’t it _ grand?” _

“Sylvain, I understand,” said Mercedes quietly.

“They don’t like me. They don’t respect me. All that kindness, all that charm --”

“Sylvain --”

“Worthless. It doesn’t mean jack shit. It’ll never get me what I really want --” 

_ “Sylvain!” _

The spell he had cast upon himself was broken; he leaned back, seeing her once more before him as she was. Not an antagonist, not one of _them_. Just a friend. Seeing her eyes full of concern and kindness, for him, for his shitty angst that didn’t concern her at all… how very Mercedes. 

_ Nice going, dipshit. _

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking anywhere but Mercedes’ gaze. “I drank too much. I… don’t want you to worry about me. Just forget all that.”

“What I don’t understand,” said Mercedes, as if he had not said anything strange at all, “is why you pursue these women when there is someone you truly love...” 

“What,” said Sylvain, his tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth. 

“Don’t you feel that way about Felix?” she said, looking for all the world as if she hadn’t just outed Sylvain’s deepest, darkest secret in spectacular fashion. 

He blinked, opened his mouth, blinked some more, and tried again. “I do not,” he said indignantly. “I mean, Mercedes -- firstly, _ no_, and secondly, how could you possibly know that? I thought I was _ discreet, _ fuck --” 

“You are,” she said. “But isn’t it obvious that he feels the same as you?” 

“He doesn’t,” Sylvain said immediately, and -- oh, _ shit. _ Fuck. Why was he even trying to hide it at this point. “Look, Mercedes, I don’t know what you think you’ve seen, but trust me, he does not. Okay? So, uh, I’m cool just… enjoying myself… elsewhere, I guess. Yeah,” he said, incredibly lamely. “It’s fine. It’s really fine.” 

He hated himself well enough. He didn’t need _Felix_ to hate him too. 

“I think you should talk to him,” said Mercedes. 

“You know what? Promise me something first,” said Sylvain. “This merchant guy -- you’re never gonna marry him, right? So just don’t meet him.” Mercedes looked troubled. He pressed on. “You’re a gem, Mercedes. A fucking keeper. He’ll fall for you -- who wouldn’t? But you know what you want, right? A life of service. So what’s the point in meeting him? You’re just leading him on.” 

He saw her bite her lip and fiddle with the charm of the goddess on her wrist. She was thinking hard. 

“You are right," she said at last, “but what will I tell my father?” 

“Why do you need to tell him _ anything?!” _ Sylvain exploded. “Tell him anything you want, goddess. Tell him you’re marrying _ me _ and having my Crest baby. That’ll fucking thrill him -- I’m the nobility and I’m rich, right? Do whatever you need to to get him out of your hair...

“But live your _ life_, goddamnit. You’re too fucking good to throw your life away!” 

Mercedes was silent for a moment, during which Sylvain wondered if he’d overstepped again, if he’d been too harsh with her -- but fuck it. He’d do more than overstep to keep Mercedes from making an awful mistake. Then she blushed very slightly, and his garbage instincts told him he was in the clear.

“Marrying you, Sylvain… Maybe I really will tell him that,” she said, and laughed, her veil fluttering delicately between them.

“That wasn’t serious_, _ you know,” Sylvain said, even as he considered it himself. It wouldn’t be too bad, if he were being honest. A marriage in name only _would_ solve her problems in the short term and be good for both their public images. Behind the scenes they could do as they pleased; Mercedes could devote herself to the church, of course, and he and Felix _ \-- _ nope. Nope! He wasn’t thinking about that tonight, not when he was _ this _ drunk!

Although the Crest baby… he could not see himself and Mercedes doing that_. _Ever. Maybe if it were delivered by stork? 

Sylvain hauled himself out of the booth with a massive effort. 

“Let’s go home, Mercedes.”

* * *

The walk back to Garreg Mach from town was much faster than the trip there, for several reasons. For starters, it was late. For another, Sylvain was terribly drunk, which did strange things to the time, or his perception of it, anyway. One moment he was arguing fiercely that he’d never tell Felix a thing, he’d rather die, Felix would never -- 

The next he was puking into some bushes and apologizing profusely -- 

And then Mercedes was guiding him to his room with a strength belied by her slender frame, wheeling him gently to the Lions’ dorms and propping him up against his own doorway.

“I wanted to thank you,” said Mercedes. "For..."

“For talking sense into you? No problem, Merce,” he heard himself say dully. “That’s what friends are for.” His head was pounding already, which did not bode well for morning. He rid himself of her arm and threw himself onto his bed with a _thud_. The sooner he no longer had to stand, the better. 

“I also wanted to thank you for spending time with me,” she said, continuing to look at him with disarming sincerity. “My evening was... very enjoyable.”

“Enjoyable, huh? Let me guess,” he said, wiping acid from his lips -- yikes. “Was it the part where I nearly threw up on your shoes? Or having to carry me back to my room? Don’t tell me -- both of those?” 

“I’ve never gone out with anyone before,” said Mercedes. “I quite liked it. I can see the appeal, especially with you.” 

“You… can?” he said, dumbly. “I…. I’ll take you out whenever you want, Mercedes. I mean it.” 

“Of course you do,” she said, and laughed gently. 

“No, really,” he protested, closing his eyes as a fresh wave of fatigue slammed him. Suddenly consciousness seemed an impossible task. Then he heard the whisper of a veil, felt the faintest of imprints, and -- wait a moment, shit, had she just _ kissed him on the cheek? _

His eyes jolted open and met hers in shock. She was smiling, of course. 

“Good night, Sylvain,” she said, and for once he was at a loss for words as she smoothed the curls damp against his forehead and blew out the single candle on his nightstand. 

His heart bloomed in his chest. Somehow this did more for him than days of skirtchasing. Or weeks. 

_ Damn, Mercedes, _ Sylvain thought, right before passing out. _ You really are a special lady. _

**Author's Note:**

> tag yourself mercedes is Sacred sylvain is Profane
> 
> sorry if this sucks lmfao i just love my boy sylvain n my girl mercedes and want them to have a Good Time. also i am sylvain jesus christ
> 
> twt me[@letrasette](http://twitter.com/letrasette) ive fallen into fe3h and cant get up


End file.
